


trying not to fall on the way home

by ohcosima



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Smoking, Swearing, also clexa if you squiiiiiint real hard, also most of the characters except murphy and bell only appear briefly and mostly don't talk, idk it's kinda open, implied but not addressed explicitly!!, sorta??, the deaths and past relationships are only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6367831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohcosima/pseuds/ohcosima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy has a revelation, then a freak-out.<br/>——<br/>The air was becoming chillier than he could bear it to be being without pants on, so Murphy finished the cigarette quickly and stubbed it out. And then it was a matter of a moment. He was removing Bellamy’s shirt and putting on his clothes, hastily too. He was in a rush and he didn’t really know what for.</p><p>He grabbed the rest of his things, took out his car keys, and left with no definite destination in mind yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trying not to fall on the way home

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Troye Sivan's _Wild_.
> 
> Hi flowers! This is my first work for the Murphamy pairing, totally not beta read (all mistakes are mine and mine alone; it's late. Why do I always post at such a late hour???). This was mostly born because  
> a) I'm a sad fuck  
> b) The show sucks ass (*tom jones singing* what's new, pussycat? oooh ohoo ooh)  
> c) Murphamy is too cute? I mean they did try to kill each other at one point, but by now, in order to be considered a true otp it is kind of mandatory. So.
> 
> Basically, this is me projecting my sadness onto these two, hoping to not make you puke too much. This doesn't make any sense, really. Enjoy.

He had met Bellamy when he started working at Nate’s father’s bookshop. It was a really old place, very picturesque; it was well-kept, the sort of place where Murphy could definitely see a rising poet spend their day searching for inspiration. The furniture was in some dark wood, slightly dusty, but not enough to get irritating. Most shelves were neatly organized, with books by authors, scheduled alphabetically; old editions with hard bindings in deep reds or greens, with the book’s title embroidered in gold. Murphy loved them.

There was also a coffee area with nice couches and armchairs where you could sit and read in peace.

But the thing was, as much as the place seemed really made for quite personalities to isolate in, it was also pretty damn near the city’s college.

So, said peace lasted a grand total of one day for Murphy, because from day two he learned Nate’s college friends would stumble in there around 4 p.m. and hoard every single surface available, chatting and laughing loudly, with their computers and notepads and piles of thick books. Murphy didn’t pay them much attention, but he never saw much studying getting accomplished.

He saw a girl with long braided hair usually sharing a love-seat with a tall, muscular guy, just spending her time huddled in his embrace. They were the quietest ones; Murphy only heard them occasionally laugh at something one of the others said.

There was a girl who always wore an over-sized red jacket, her hair tied in a ponytail and her pants slightly dusty. She was probably the only one urging the cluster to get some work done, even hitting them with a walker when someone complained about it.

A girl with blond locks was typing on her phone all the time, but she usually studied in the meantime, even if Murphy saw her glancing at it more than once while reading, probably waiting the person she was texting to answer. They all noticed, and teased her about it, but she just smiled, blushing, and said nothing.

A rather shy boy sometimes nervously gripped the strap of his backpack and came to him to ask for Nate. He seemed younger than he probably was, and Murphy could tell from the way he talked that he had some kind of crush on Nate. He found it amusing because whenever Nate stopped by, the boy downright avoided looking his way, and when they all grabbed their things and made their way out of the store, Murphy would catch his friend grumpily muttering under his breath what did he possibly do to that guy that he wouldn’t spare him a second of his day. Murphy kept his mouth shut, enjoying too much the sight of the two of them unknowingly – or not – pining after one another.

Murphy would learn their names eventually, but there was one he already knew after only two times he’d heard it.

Bellamy. Bellamy, from which Murphy couldn’t tear his eyes away since he first saw him walk in the bookshop. If Nate had been there to witness the look he had, he would have slapped the back of his head and told him to go back to work, just stop staring at every person he found remotely attractive.

But Nate wasn’t there, and Murphy had memorized the way shirts clung to his chest and the way he bit his pen when he was concentrating hard on whatever the hell he was studying (and when he catched himself doing it unconsciously, it was adorable). His dark curls, his freckles and his smile that was a smirk more often than not, Bellamy’s sole existence made Murphy feel strange whenever he thought about it all.

He hated it, he hated that he was as obvious as daylight and that the girl with braids (that now he knew was his sister) had catched him staring more times that he could admit without wanting to hit himself in the face.

The last time it happened, he watched in horror as she withdrawn her phone from her pocket and with an utterly devilish smile plastered on her face, she sent a text. Murphy started to breathe again, but the relief lasted twenty seconds tops, because a phone was ringing and Bellamy was the one to reach for it and read the text. Then he frowned, but Murphy only saw that from the corner of his eye, having ran outside with a cigarette in his hand.

When he returned inside Bellamy didn’t turn around as he expected, and the girl was whispering with her boyfriend, hopefully about other stuff. He decided to start that book he always brought with himself but never actually got around to read.

The day went on as usual, until they started closing their books and gathering their things, slowly approaching his desk to pay for their coffees. He was already preparing himself to calculate all of the changes, but he saw Bellamy prodding his friends towards the door, with a reassuring smile on his face.

When he turned to look directly at him, Murphy was having an aneurysm.

He walked towards him with such self-confidence that the sight made Murphy sick to his stomach, and not only because he actually envied him for it. Throughout the whole rather brief exchange, Bellamy kept his gaze glued to Murphy’s face, which Murphy noticed during the three seconds of eye-contact he managed. He repeated in his head a mantra of _keepcoolkeepcoolkeepcool_ , as he listed the various beverages he was due to register.

Eventually, he managed not to make a fool out of himself and take the money. He also gave him the change, but Bellamy told him to keep it and winked at him as he went away.

Next thing he knew, Nate was teasing him about it every chance he got, until Murphy decided to shoot back with inappropriate jokes about him and Monty, which made Nate quickly retreat into silence.

It took them two weeks to get each other’s phone numbers, with a little help from Octavia. It started out as a simple thing. They texted each other, they went to see their favorite teams playing, they made out in Murphy’s condo laundry room.

~

Life was fine. It was actually pretty damn good, if you ask Murphy.

At some point during their relationship, Murphy realized that he never intended for Bellamy to actually stick around. Well, _he_ was the one that hadn’t planned on sticking around. He just never considered it. He hadn’t planned on Bellamy knowing about his parents, his criminal record or even his full name. But now Bellamy did know all of these things and more, and Murphy knew these things about Bellamy and more, too. And Murphy? Murphy was more than surprised to admit that he liked it.

So why was he in this situation right now?

Murphy heard the wind rustling outside. He breathed deeply, not opening his eyes just yet. He stirred lazily, cracking a few bones and rubbing at his eyes, until he hit a body with his foot and immediately retreated it. He opened his eyes, just to make sure he hadn’t woken Bellamy up.

But there he was, his naked back turned to Murphy, in the deepest of sleeps. Murphy sighed relieved, sitting up to stretch his arms properly. He wore one of Bellamy’s pajama tops; it was too big for him, a couple of sizes at least, and it smelled like Bellamy even though Murphy had been using it more frequently than necessary.

Eventually he rose, taking the opportunity to light a cigarette up and enjoy it without Bellamy breathing down on his neck, telling him that some day it was gonna kill him and that he didn’t like it when they kissed and he could taste it in his mouth.

Lately something had changed, and it frustrated Murphy that it couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

He threw the blanket which he had stolen in the middle of the night over Bellamy’s legs and quietly made his way in the kitchen where he opened the large window and, leaning on the window frame, he finally took a long drag, his eyes almost rolling at the sensation of smoke – fucking _finally_ – filling his lungs.

He gazed outside for a bit, and then turned around to look at the adjacent living room. It was filled with Bellamy’s books. The books he had tried to make Murphy read, the books he was incredibly proud of. He was annoying at times, how he could ramble about mythology and history and whatever for hours and hours.  

That was a lie. Murphy didn’t understand a thing about mythology, nor did he see the utility about knowing the names of a bunch of gods who at some point banged one another, but he listened because of Bellamy. He didn’t annoy him, which was new to Murphy.

Murphy shrugged, deciding to focus on other things. On the sofa were scattered Murphy’s belongings: his backpack, the DVD he and Bellamy had watched before going to bed, his jacket and scarf. The sight looked normal and familiar, causing Murphy to look away. A weird feeling blossomed in his chest, and he began tapping his finger on the cold surface of the windowsill impatiently, almost frustrated. He didn’t want to think about Bellamy right now, nor about him and Bellamy, but it was pretty hard not to. He _was_ in Bellamy’s apartment, for instance, wherever he turned to there would be all things Bellamy. He snorted at himself.

The air was becoming chillier than he could bear it to be being without pants on, so Murphy finished the cigarette quickly and stubbed it out. And then it was a matter of a moment. He was removing Bellamy’s shirt and putting on his clothes, hastily too. He was in a rush and he didn’t really know what for.

He grabbed the rest of his things, took out his car keys, and left with no definite destination in mind yet.

~

Bellamy was woken up by a rush of cold. He shivered, pulling the covers to himself a bit. For once Murphy didn’t put as much of a fight, but the room felt silent. He had just come to his senses, his ears were buzzing a bit, he felt the blood pumping in them. But something was off, and as he turned with a bit of a struggle against the part of himself who wanted to fall back to sleep, he discovered the reason.

His first reaction was to rise immediately, look around himself to find signs of the person who was still sleeping next to him when he dozed off. But the thought that maybe Murphy had gone to the bathroom quickly came, making Bellamy squirm a little at his own  rushed negative conclusions. He huffed, falling back on the mattress even though as he saw the time he decided that maybe he could gain from the early waking and do a morning run.

He didn’t get up just yet, waiting for the other man to come back. But ten minutes passed, and Bellamy’s serenity became to waver. He got up and began pacing the house, going from perplexity to uneasiness as soon as he realized he was alone. He checked his phone and his voicemail, but nothing was there from him.

He only noticed the open window when he felt another rush of chilly air hit him, thinking that he had to slap Murphy two times when he found him. One for the impromptu disappearance, the other for smoking and extinguishing his cigarette on his windowsill.

He washed his face and got dressed, deciding that if he knew Murphy well enough, there was only a place where he could be gone to. Maybe two.

~

Bellamy Blake was a romantic at heart. But he had a discussible tendency to fall for people who avoided showing their feelings like the plague. He didn’t go out searching for strictly long-lasting relationships, but he knew that if he ever felt that for someone, he was going to put himself to it. No stubbornness, no reluctance, no emotional constipation would discourage him.

He wasn’t one for flamboyant displays of affection either, but he never had a problem with showing that he cared. He did pretty well with tactility. Physical connection was something he was not afraid of, he rather thrived in it; he didn’t voice his feelings frequently, but he made sure the people on the receiving end of his affection knew.

But what about the times said people didn’t want it? Rejection wasn’t the end of the world, Bellamy had had his fair share of unrequited crushes. But he was not concerned about that. No, this evolved on a deeper level.

The real thing is, Bellamy has known a lot of wonderful people. He’s been with a lot of amazing persons.

There was Echo, there was Gina, there was Wells. There was Raven too, recently. But they were quick to fall apart, and when Ontari had come along, they parted with a smile that was only a tad accompanied by relief. They were good for each other, and Ontari  was actually better for her. They stayed friends, just as before, with the added bonus that they had seen each other’s naked butts.

The problem was Murphy wasn’t anything like them. Not that he had expected him to be, but he was caught off guard by the entirety of him. He was even more cryptic than Raven had been about his life, especially his childhood, and Bellamy hadn’t dared question him too much about it. Heaven knew if he and Octavia wanted to chat amiably about their childhood to the first one who seemed trust-worthy enough. But Murphy was closed-off in a way that he hadn’t quite seen yet, and sometimes it made him angry.

Not angry at him, of course, even if it sometimes got difficult to distinguish. He was mostly angry at himself for not getting things, for just having to tell himself that some things had to be accepted in order to be with a person, compromises sometimes were the key.

But now that he was driving around the city at an insane hour in the morning, he gulped down all his musing.

Out of the two places he went to look for, one was the graveyard. When Murphy first told Bellamy he liked the place, he had to admit he was pretty unprepared. But as he got to know the reason behind it, he felt that it was only logical that if your best friend of a lifetime died like John Mbege had, you could only cling to the last place that held some memory of him, no matter how strange it sounded to other people. He had whispered it to him one night. Who the fuck cared if they all didn’t get it?

When he got there he reached the tombstone pretty easily, but he didn’t find anyone by it. He wasn’t at all surprised, and as he walked back to the car, a sour smile spread on his face.

~

Murphy was a runner. Really, his whole life, the only sport he was ever any good at. He cared for his skin. If somebody left him, he could deal with. But he couldn’t leave his skin. He would have to live with himself for a pretty long time. He couldn’t go on with the knowledge that there would be someone at some point whose skin counted as much as his own.

He already lost all of those, and not in the kind way. Nobody could blame him if he was hit with the realization while he was in his boyfriend’s apartment at three? Four? Six in the morning?

And if the subject of such speculation was Bellamy, well. One could have figured out on his own, but for Murphy it made really no difference. He recognized the burning ache, maybe a bit too in deep, but he did finally, and he ran. Even if it was momentary, even if somebody or something brought him back afterwards. He recognized it, and even if a lot of philosophical currents begged to differ, the realization quieted the need (philosophy was one of the few classes he paid attention to in high school, thank you).

There was a word for it all in the back of his mind, and he laughed, mocking himself for it. He participated in an inner dialogue with himself. First of all, he tried reprimanding himself by saying that if he felt it, then fuck it. Just accept it already and go on with your life, that you don’t have much time for self-punishment anymore. But the other part of himself, and he couldn’t tell if it was the rational part or the scared eleven years old talking, told him that he was exaggerating it. He was seeing things that weren’t there and that he was only saying that because he felt alone and he hadn’t loved in quite some time.

The breeze almost managed to avert his train of thoughts. Almost, because he was used to it.

A honking car, however, was not part of his every day trips to the hidden part of the shore he pretty much ruled over.

~

Bellamy tried to hide his satisfaction at having found him. It was not the time to focus on such things, he thought as he climbed down the car to spot a figure sat in the sand, closer to the sea than it was healthy with the cold wind already hitting.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, shutting his thoughts and prompting himself to move already. He walked until he was a meter and a half behind him, and he didn’t seem to have heard him arrive.

Bellamy sighed. “Murphy.” He said, “Murphy, what is this about?”

No answer came. “Is it— did I do something?” Bellamy fidgeted imperceptibly, both out of frustration and coldness. “Murphy, I really don’t get what is going on, if you care to—”

Murphy had turned, a sharp look was examining his. “I don’t know, Bellamy.”

“So you just woke up and ran because you don’t know what hit you?”

“Yes.”

“Just great.” He whispered to himself, smiling humorlessly, and for a second he thought of turning and leaving. It was a second, and he wasn’t really considering it, but it was enough for him to want to cancel it by choosing to sit near the other man. He sat on the sand, not attempting to look at him just yet. “You know, you are a strange one.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s not an insult.”

“Not a compliment either in my book.”

“You’re right,” he breathed a laugh, “It’s just a fact. I probably won’t ever get you, and if you don’t want me to, just say the words. We don’t have to fool nobody.”

Murphy exhaled, pained and hindered. “It’s  just— you know me.”

“That I do.”

“I’m not good with all of this.”

“This being…”

“This, Bellamy. _Us_.” He pronounced the words as if it was taunting, as if it held some kind of derogatory meaning to it.

“So it is about us.”

“Kind of.”

Bellamy swallowed, “You… you are calling this off.”

“No!” Murphy still wouldn’t look at him, but Bellamy sneaked a glance, and he saw his wide eyes as he assured him that no, he wasn’t telling him they were through. “I mean, I’m not— you said it yourself, I’m strange, I’m not built up for this. I keep thinking I’m going to screw up in some way, and I don’t know why.”

“Do I make you think that?”

“No,” he answered with new-found tranquility, “It’s probably just me.”

“Murphy, it’s not _just_ you, you understand?” Bellamy turned to look at him even if he wouldn’t return his gaze. “Whatever is bothering you is also bothering me now. Even if you say it’s you, it’s my— my, um, I care about it. I care about you.”

Murphy’s lip twitched up in a smirk, “Thanks dad.”

“Be serious, idiot,” he scoffed, but a smile was playing at his lips too, “I mean it.”

“I know you do.” Murphy said, “I just don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Try explaining, maybe.”

Murphy shrugged, “That’s not much to say. I just feel like I’m constantly going to screw up, because that is what I’m designed to do.”

“Murphy,” Bellamy cooed, “You’re not a screw-up.” Murphy remained silent, bitterness twisting his lips. “You screw up sometimes, that doesn’t define you. Everybody has faults and everybody does wrong.”

“I know,”

“Then why is it different with you?”

“It just is,”

“Well, fuck that. I won’t accept that.”

Murphy turned to look at a frowning Bellamy, “What, you’ll slay the dragon and save me?”

Bellamy snorted, “Like you’d let me if I tried.”

Murphy actually laughed at that, imagining Bellamy in shining armor, riding a white horse. It actually suited him, the whole brave knight persona.

“Murphy, I’m serious though, I want you to not feel like that.”

Murphy came down from his laughter with a cough, trying to mask his embarrassment. Bellamy was being more supportive that he had ever seen him be in the months of their relationship. Or, to be more exact, he was being more forward about it. Murphy had seen how protective he was of his friends, of his best friend and sister especially. He was even protective of the gone, like his mother.

Murphy saw his need for taking care of the people around him in the little gestures, and he never mentioned it to him, because Bellamy hated it when people put him on the spotlight like that. His reaction was kind of cute, if you asked Murphy, because he became flustered and fidgety and he would smile to hide the awkwardness. He didn’t even know how to take a compliment if it didn’t mean a bit of stammering or an insult, if you were close enough with him. Murphy could have never guessed this side of him, when he first saw the slightly arrogant boy. He was rough around the edges sometimes, but the amount of heart he put out for the people he cared about…

“Ok,” he accepted finally. Maybe he had been a little rushed in running away like that, maybe he should have just talked to Bellamy. But he wanted things for himself sometimes, and even if he could result as stubborn, then be it. He hadn’t had someone who truly cared about him in so much; even further away in time there was someone who cared enough to voice their concern in front of him. Murphy felt he did owe Bellamy that much, even if he didn’t let himself believe anything for the moment.

“Tell you what. I’ll try to be more… talkative about things that bother me.”

Bellamy nodded, “That’s good,” he agreed, “But…?”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, you seemed on the verge of a compromise.”

“No, I just like to keep you on your toes. Rile you up a bit.”

“Imbecile,” Bellamy snorted, rising up to his feet and offering Murphy a hand, “Now, can my boyfriend and I get back home, because my ass is freezing and I want to sleep for another four hours at least?”

“Yes, we can.”

“Thank you,” Bellamy pulled him up, sighing with relief, and as soon as they were face to face, instead of releasing his hand like Murphy expected, he yanked him forward, crushing their faces together.

He gave him a chaste peck on his lips, probably meaning it to be just an affectionate little gesture, but as soon as Murphy’s lips touched Bellamy’s, he felt warmness spread through him. He held Bellamy in place, and leaned forward again, going in for a proper kiss. He felt the smile spreading wide on Bellamy’s face as he bit onto his lower lip. When they parted, Bellamy was smiling softly at him, leading him towards their car.

~

“Bellamy?”

“Yes,” the freckled man mumbled, half-asleep.

“I gotta tell you something.”

“Go ahead,”

Murphy swallowed. “I— I love you.”

Bellamy’s face was suddenly in the crook of his neck, his lips clearly turned into a smile. A kiss was placed under his jaw. “I love you too.”

Murphy felt something lighten in his chest. He stared at the ceiling with eyes too wide, considering he couldn’t see anything in the darkness. He had felt the need to just say those three words, even if he was scared of their weight. Murphy was often reckless with his words, and his tongue had gotten him in so much otherwise avoidable trouble that he lost count. But now he felt better, for now he felt oddly at peace.

Murphy smiled, scooted closer to Bellamy and drifted to sleep.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come tell me how much I suck from 1 to infinity at lovelyclizzy.tumblr.com
> 
> I _was_ ohpoussey, but then Shadowhunters took over my life. Yay.


End file.
